On My Way - Chapter 53

Chapter 53 - I Might Never See Her Again

From the darkness came the sound of waves, layer upon layer.

Yu Shixuan said, "His tragedy, their tragedy—it really doesn't have much to do with you."

I exhaled a cloud of smoke. Old Feng was the one who taught me to smoke, though he had a heavy addiction, and for me, not smoking wasn't a problem.

I said, "The biggest connection is that I am too much like him."

In truth, neither of us was exceptionally brilliant. Any success we achieved came from locking onto a goal and driving toward it without distraction.

But now, hesitation has taken root in my heart.

I am terrified of becoming like him—wanting nothing, sprinting forward like a mad dog, without even knowing what I am chasing.

Just then, Harina suddenly came scrambling over, roaring, "Sister! Call an ambulance! Something’s wrong with Grandma!"

A firework bloomed overhead, and the clock struck twelve.

My cigarette dropped from my fingers, hitting the ground with a resounding thud.

—

Grandma had been suffering from leg pain and, in a daze, had rolled off the bed and hit her head.

Even though it was the Spring Festival, the hospital was packed, and we couldn't even get in. We had to make do with simple treatment at a small clinic.

After Grandma woke up, she kept clamoring to go back: "Who spends the first day of the Lunar New Year in a hospital? It’s bad luck. I want to go home!"

"Alright, alright. Over these past few years, did you get the physical exams I told you to?"

"Why would I get that stuff done! I want to go home!"

I bought her a physical examination package every year, but because I was always away, I never had the time to urge her to go.

That day, we did go back. On the first day of the year, we even ate dumplings, but for some reason, my heart kept thumping anxiously.

It was as if something in the shadows was watching me—baring its cruel teeth.

That was fate—the fate I was racing against, yet had never outrun.

On the third day of the Lunar New Year, I will never forget that soul-searing dusk.

The doctor said it was bone cancer. We had to wait for the final test results, but given the patient's age, the family needed to prepare themselves mentally.

I walked out of the doctor’s office, and the entire world felt sharper and more piercing than ever before.

Grandma’s voice drifted over as she chatted with someone:

"My granddaughter is so capable. She bought her own house and car; she's really made something of herself..."

"She's so sensible and hardworking. I told her not to come, but she insisted on coming to the hospital—wasting all this money!"

Watching her beam with pride, an unnamed fire ignited in my chest.

I wanted to rush over and scream at her, demanding to know why she hadn't gone to the hospital even though her leg had been hurting for so long!

Why did she never listen to my advice about getting regular checkups!

And here she was, boasting! What was there to boast about!

If your granddaughter were truly so good, she wouldn't have left you all alone! She wouldn't have been so oblivious that she didn't even know your leg hurt so much you couldn't sleep!

I walked over slowly. Grandma looked up and asked, "How is it?"

"It’s... osteoporosis. That’s what you get for not taking care of yourself!"

Grandma laughed triumphantly at the person across from her: "See? I told you it was just a minor issue! She insisted on coming!"

"Your granddaughter is so filial! You are truly blessed, old lady!"

I took her hand and led her out slowly. Her hand was covered in wrinkles and bulging veins, yet it was incredibly warm.

This was the very same hand that had held mine when I was small, and no matter how bitter or difficult life got, it had never let go.

The only time it actually let go was when I said, "Grandma, I’m going to Africa to make big money."

She had nodded forcefully and grinned with her toothless mouth, saying, "That sounds good. My granddaughter is promising."

During that holiday, I took her to Beijing.

It was through a connection Yu Shixuan found for me that, after the holiday, I finally managed to secure an appointment at Jishuitan Hospital.

The diagnosis confirmed it: bone cancer.

The doctor suggested conservative treatment.

Considering the patient's advanced age and the prohibitively high costs, the prognosis wasn't necessarily good.

I stood before that professional, cold-hearted doctor, my back arched as if under an unbearable weight.

I said, "I know. The advice you've given, Doctor, is extremely practical."

I said, "But as you can see, she has always been healthy, and all her vitals are normal."

I said, "I'm not afraid of spending money. I can spend as much as it takes, as long as you can keep her alive..."

I don't even know what I said. My usual eloquence—the gift of the gab—was pale and powerless at that moment. I didn't know what I could say to change this doctor's mind.

Just as I didn't know what I could do to change Death’s mind.

I could only keep talking, and talking, until he expressed his slight impatience and told me to leave.

I walked down the hallway, utterly devastated, not knowing how long I wandered before I slowly, slowly crouched to the ground.

In the past ten years, the number of times I have returned home could be counted on one hand.

Each time, I only had enough time to wolf down two mouthfuls of her cooking before collapsing in sleep, and as soon as I woke up, I had to leave again.

She would always confirm, over and over: "Leaving on the 4th, right? What time was your train again?"

It wasn't until I lost my patience and threw a tantrum that she finally stopped asking.

I always thought there would be enough time.

Time to take her traveling, time to be filial, time to spend long, long years with her.

I heard countless drumbeats exploding in my ears, near and far, like a heartbeat, or perhaps like the fireworks of a new year.

I don't know how long it was before I realized it was my phone ringing.

It was General Manager An's secretary, asking when I would be returning to the company.

—

General Manager An's office is always kept at exactly 24 degrees Celsius. Because it is filled with so many green plants, it always feels a bit humid and misty.

"Have you been adjusting well to the company lately? Have you run into any issues? Why have you been asking for time off so often?"

General Manager An's secretary is a very cordial woman named Zhao Hui. Her words are as gentle as a spring breeze, yet they carry needles hidden within.

"Everything is fine. Director Jiang and my colleagues have been very supportive," I said. "I've had some personal matters at home recently. I’m very sorry for the trouble."

"You are a talent highly valued by General Manager An. This exceptional appointment to the company, in a sense, also represents his reputation," she said with a faint smile, finally cutting to the point. "If you cannot keep up with the progress, it puts the General Manager in a very difficult position."

"Of course. But I truly haven't spent much time in an office environment, so there may indeed be a gap between me and my colleagues... Is there something I’m doing that has made the leadership dissatisfied?"

She displayed a look of appreciation, the kind that says, "It’s so refreshing to deal with a smart person," and replied, "Don't misunderstand. Everyone quite recognizes your experience, but it is true that working in the office hasn't allowed you to leverage your strengths very well."

In other words, my performance in this role is not recognized.

Anxiety burned within me. I am in desperate need of money right now. This job—I must not, under any circumstances, let anything go wrong.

"Personally, I feel the place where your strengths are best utilized is still the field."

She handed me a project proposal and said, "The domestic market is sluggish, so the company’s focus for the past two years has been overseas. Since you are highly experienced, the General Manager is considering you for the position of project manager."

I took a look. It was a bridge project in Myanmar.

I hesitated.

The company had never done a project in Myanmar before. It would mean I would be the vanguard, starting from zero.

The difficulty and the amount of heart and blood this would cost are beyond imagination.

She saw my hesitation and said, "Of course, there are a few other candidates, but I think this is a good opportunity for you. If you can chew through this tough nut, then in the future at the head office, you will have truly established your footing."

The subtext of that sentence was:

If you don't take this project, your position at the head office will be in immediate jeopardy.

I tucked the document away and said, "Sister Zhao, give me some time to consider it."

Grandma is still in Beijing.

I returned home early, packed my change of clothes and her medical records, and took a taxi to the high-speed rail station.

With two hours left before the train departed, I went to a small shop, bought a bottle of white liquor, and sat in a McDonald's drinking it.

Grandma is about to have surgery. I have been running back and forth between two cities for days, and my work has been heavily neglected; I can't blame Director Jiang for having opinions about me.

Even if he didn't say anything, this project would eventually be assigned to me sooner or later.

When Old Feng fell, everyone kicked him; he has now become a negative example.

But the company cannot function without ruthless people who can win tough battles. The reason Old Feng was able to rise in the past was that he could endure suffering others couldn't and could tackle projects others couldn't finish—at the time, the company didn't care whether his methods were clean.

Now that Old Feng is gone, I am his successor.

If I can't take his place, or even lead a project—what does General Manager An need me for? To make PowerPoints in the office?

Being fired is only a matter of time.

But Grandma is still lying in the hospital. She doesn't have medical insurance, and the insurance I bought for her only covers a portion.

I still have a mortgage to pay; I need a lot, a lot of money.

But if I leave...

I will, in all likelihood, never see her again.

Even if I hide it, and no matter how cleverly I conceal it, she already knows something.

Yesterday in the middle of the night, she suddenly let out a deep sigh and said, "Oh my, when are you leaving this time? We haven't even had a proper chance to spend a few days together. Sigh."

She will be just like she has been all these years, stroking my photograph, lying alone in a hospital bed waiting for death.